


Conference Night

by ourgirlfriday



Series: The Creatively Named Series [1]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, David is embarrassed, First Meetings, M/M, Parent Charles, Teacher Erik, no powers, probably not appropriate behavior for adult humans herein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:43:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourgirlfriday/pseuds/ourgirlfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's parent teacher conference night, and Charles is ready to meet with David's teachers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conference Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afrocurl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/gifts).



> Based on Afrocurl's prompt: Charles and Erik meet somewhere (not picky) and have one of those instant connections just based on the power of one of their smiles.

“So, I’m going to hear only good things, I hope?” Charles tried to catch David’s eyes in the rearview mirror, but his son was suspiciously interested in the 2001 Rand McNally road atlas buried under a small mountain of hamburger wrappers and soda cups. 

“I don’t know why I hafta come. You just _saw_ my report card.” David had worked himself into an impressive snit on the short drive to school for Parent-Teacher Conferences. Charles did not hold out much optimism for the coming hour, but pushed that aside as he transferred from his seat to his wheelchair. 

“We’ve gone over this, David. It’s important to know how you’re getting along,” Charles explained over David’s dramatic huff, “and aside from that, how else would I torture you on a Thursday night?” David glared as Charles ruffled his son’s hair. It wouldn’t be too long before David put the kibosh on even that form of affection. 

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaad,” David pouted with all the force his thirteen-year old self could muster as they entered Westchester Middle School. Charles looked up, smiling, reverie forgotten.

“So, first things first. Homeroom? That’s Ms. Frost, yes?” Charles peered at the room numbers as he rolled past. 

“Was. She left, remember?” Ah, yes, Charles thought. Something about trying to overthrow the PTA. “Now we’re stuck with Mr. Lehnsherr. Can’t we skip him? It’s just homeroom. ‘Sides, he’s a total jerk. I bet he eats kittens.”

“Now really,” rumbled a sardonic voice from behind. “Hardly any meat to them. I prefer human babies.” David made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. Charles maneuvered his chair around and looked up to see a tall, lithe man with sharp features and an amazingly toothy grin. He suppressed a swoon. His insides quivered like…something quivery.

So maybe metaphors weren’t his strong suit. You can’t win them all. 

_Well, hello there,_ Charles thought as he deployed his Most Flirtatious Smile TM. “Mr. Lehnsherr, I presume?” Charles leaned forward as much as he was able and looked up from under his lashes. Next to him, David emitted another, more forceful squeak. 

“The very one. I take it you’re the father of this ruffian.” Lehnsherr’s face was dour, and voice serious, but his eyes sparkled in a way that mostly assured Charles he was joking. 

“Indeed! But please, call me Charles.” He was practically purring at this point, if Lehnsherr’s flush and appraising look and David’s gaping mouth and look of horrified disbelief were any indication. 

Ah, well. Parental embarrassment built character. Or so he heard. 

“If you insist, Charles. And of course, you may call me Erik.” Charles took Erik’s proffered hand in a shake that stretched out to a sort of caress. 

A group of students had accumulated in the hallway, each of them as horrorstruck as David. They appeared to be trying to console the boy, although Charles thought they were being a tad melodramatic. Erik was perfectly lovely. David seemed to be muttering about kittens, won’t somebody think of the kittens. 

Charles looked back to Erik, let his eyes travel up and down the man’s body. Erik preened like a particularly enthusiastic peacock. Alright, Xavier, he mused, time to break out the big guns. “And here I was hoping I could call you Saturday.” 

David let out a scream of anguish as Erik’s smile widened. The students nearby all took a large step back. Some of them made the sign of the cross. “Well,” Erik murmured coyly, “I think that could be arranged.” He squeezed Charles’s hand before letting it go, and turned to the accumulated students, who dispersed at a well executed glare.

Charles couldn’t stop himself from sighing. He always _had_ been a sucker for a well executed glare. 

Erik turned back, features softening, lips quirking up at the edges. He pressed a business card into Charles’s hand. “I look forward to your call, Charles," he purred. Then, more brusquely, "David, don’t be a schmuck.” With that, he turned on his heel to re-enter his room, where a group of curious parents had gathered with their shell-shocked children. Charles admired the view as David hissed in his ears about toothy maniacs and kittens and refusing to live under the same roof as a shark. 

Charles found it difficult to concentrate on his son’s complaints, as well as various teacher’s comments throughout the night (although he made a note about asking David later to explain how exactly the llama ended up with his pencil). It was difficult to concentrate on anything other than a toothy grin and frankly magnificent ass. 

All in all, he thought on the drive home, it was a pretty good night.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetad, I apologize for any mistakes. Also, the llama mention is based on a friend of mine, who got in trouble when a llama in our high school's courtyard stole and ate his pencil. 
> 
> We never did figure out why there was a llama in our school in the first place.


End file.
